bang bang
by welcome to the glade
Summary: An incurable disease; this is what threatens Newt. Page 250 happens. In a way. ' Please, Tommy. Please. '


**A/N: Hello there, fellow Gladers!**

 **Slight warning before we begin: this story might not be what you expect it to be.**

* * *

The wind whispered and kissed his skin, a cool touch of velvet, a welcome distraction from the heat of the sun. With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Thomas stared at the boy on the ground, feeling his head throb.

He didn't want to do it. He couldn't do it.

He couldn't take that risk.

But the deep, deep eyes he has come to know so well were filled with a sadness that almost killed him.

'' Please, Tommy. Please. ''

With his heart falling into a black abyss, Thomas sat down beside Newt and handed him the bowl with ice-cream.

'' This is the last time, you shank. ''

The blonde's face lightened up as though by magic. He inched a little closer to Thomas, so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, both leaning against the apple tree in a shadow.

'' I bloody love you, Tommy. ''

The words were soft, almost mumbled against Thomas' shoulder as Newt leaned in to press his lips there.

Thomas felt warmth fill him from head to toe, sizzling in his chest. He still didn't give in, though.

'' Shut up, '' he mumbled. '' Eat the stupid ice-cream. ''

Newt grabbed his spoon and dug into the sweet mess, frowning. '' Why are you so worried? ''

'' Oh, I don't know, '' Thomas pondered, shoving as much sarcasm into his tone as he could. '' Maybe because you have an incurable disease? ''

Newt just rolled his eyes. '' Diabetes isn't that bad and I don't have it yet. Hold your undies, Tommy. There's a buggin' difference in being sick and being in danger of being sick. ''

'' The doctor said that you should lay off sweets for a while. And that's all you've been eating. ''

Worry was biting into him, he couldn't help it. The doctor had told them that it could get bad, real bad. He didn't want that. Especially since he knew that even if Newt didn't admit it, he hated needles.

Not that Thomas blamed him.

'' Well, not exactly, '' Newt argued, but then closed his mouth upon seeing the look on Thomas' face.

'' Fine, fine. I'll buggin' slow down. Happy? ''

Thomas reached for his hand, entwined their fingers, then placed a light kiss on the boy's knuckles. His lips were twitching into a smile. but before he could even respond, a voice broke through the summer air, shattering the peacefulness.

'' You two! '' It shouted. '' Would it kill you to answer the phone? I swear! Freakin' lovebirds. ''

Thomas would recognize that voice anywhere.

It was Minho.

Whipping his head around, he saw the Asian boy jogging up to them down a lonely road, passing fences and trees and cars that drove by. Newt turned to look as well.

'' Tommy. Did I leave my phone at your house? '' he whispered.

'' Crap, I think you did. So did I. ''

Well, this was certainly going to be interesting.

* * *

Minho was a little... irritated. If that was the right way to put it.

It wasn't Thomas' fault, though; he simply forgot that he was supposed to be at his house at five to help him set things up. They had a movie night every Friday, and usually it involved them three, Teresa, and a lot of heavenly food from Frypan.

Sometimes Alby or Gally joined them, sometimes not.

The point was that this little fact flew out of his mind, and he guessed that he could blame nobody but himself.

And Newt, for being a distraction. Just a little bit.

The next week, though, he decided to redeem himself by showing up early. Newt was there with him, helping Frypan with the food, while Thomas and Minho cleaned the house.

Everything was going well until a tragedy striked.

Frypan screamed, forgot how to breathe, almost fainted.

He was out of seasonings.

Minho stared for a long time before finally saying something.

'' Dude... relax. I have seasonings in my - ''

'' No! '' Frypan snapped. '' They're different. '' He threw his hands up helplessly, dropping his apron to the floor. '' This is never going to work! ''

'' I think the princess is having a heart attack. Anyone calling 911? '' Minho sniggered, leaning against the bright shelves.

'' Slim it, '' Newt cut in. '' Look, Frypan, I'm sure nobody will mind - ''

'' You don't _understand_ , '' Frypan stressed. '' The food will lose its taste without them. Oh God, I have to - I should - ''

'' Frypan, I'm telling you - ''

'' Hey, it's fine, '' Thomas stepped in. '' I'll run and get them. Just write me a list. You can get on with cooking while I'm gone. ''

Minho rolled his eyes, but stayed silent. For once.

'' You're sure? '' Frypan asked, hope twinkling in the dark pools under his lashes.

'' I'm sure. ''

After fifteen minutes of fingers pointing at the names on the list, and of ' but make sure to buy this, not something else, ' and ' yes, I get it ' and, ' but this, nothing else, all right? ' Thomas was ready to go.

He was just slipping his shoes on in the corridor when Newt came by. He smiled, suddenly itching to hug him.

'' You wanna come along? ''

Newt grinned, too. '' I bloody wish I could. Don't take long, okay? ''

Thomas folded his arms, taking a step towards him.

'' Why not? You'll miss me? ''

'' Always, '' Newt said quietly, kissing him on the cheek.

The kiss sank into his skin, melting through him.

Thomas loved spending time with his friends, he really did. But he couldn't wait for the night to be over so that he could be alone with Newt.

'' I'll be back soon, '' he said softly.

Before he could turn for the door, however, Newt grabbed him by the arm and took his hand, then placed something in it.

A piece of paper.

Curiosity sparked inside Thomas.

'' What is it? ''

'' Just put it into your pocket. ''

Confused, Thomas obeyed. And then Newt's fingertips were touching his chin, lifting it upwards.

'' Now look into my eyes, and swear to me you'll open it only when the time is right. ''

'' What? '' Thomas asked, feeling more baffled by the second.

'' Just bloody swear it. ''

'' But how will I know when - ''

'' You'll know. ''

'' Why couldn't you just tell me? ''

'' Frypan and Minho, '' Newt said, his voice lowering. '' This is just for you, Tommy. Just for you. No one else. ''

Swallowing thickly, Thomas nodded.

'' Okay. I promise. ''

Then he left.

The air outside was warm and fresh. His thoughts wandered to the note in his pocket the entire time. His fingers curled around it, as though he feared he would lose it. As he walked around the shop, searching for the seasonings on his list, his curiosity grew, boiling inside him, crackling.

Until finally he couldn't take it. Newt said he'd know when the time was right.

He somehow felt it was now.

He unfolded the small page and read the neat sentence, feeling himself frown.

 _Buy me some ice-cream? It's been a week, Tommy. If you've ever been my friend, buy me some ice-cream._

Well, no wonder the note was only for him. He could just picture Newt laughing as he wrote it.

Shaking his head, Thomas crumpled the note and put it back into his pocket, for some reason unable to stop himself from smiling.

He guessed he couldn't expect Newt to give everything up so quickly. They would take one step at a time, narrow things down. One box of ice-cream a week seemed like a fair deal to start with.

* * *

 **A/N: There. That's how it really happened. James Dashner is a lying liar.**

 **This is the true story. Not the one in the book. Nope.** **It may suck, but I had to write it. For truth's sake, you know.**


End file.
